Someone To Live For
by meaghan.awesome
Summary: Sherlock was never a popular boy in school and didn't think that he had any reason to live until he meets John Watson, an elder boy at his school. The two become friends and eventually more than friends. Johnlock!high school Sherlock!whump (warning for suicidal thoughts)


**Hi guys! This is my first fanfic ever so please be nice but I would love some constructive critiscism for how to improve next time! I hope that you enjoy this story:**

Sherlock was never a popular boy in high school. For one thing, he always had the highest grades and the only time that he failed anything was on purpose in protest to the teachers "stupidity". He was tall and lanky, hardly the most handsome or athletic boy in his grade let alone the higher grades in which he took most of his classes. In fact, the lowest class level he was taking when he was technically in grade 6 was a grade 9 course. He thought that he was far superior to everyone else and wasn't afraid to hide that knowledge. For these reasons he was constantly picked on and although he wasn't too bad at fighting, far better than most people would assume due to strategy rather than athleticism, when multiple boys ganged up on him, there wasn't much he could do.

His home life was also unsteady. His mother and father adored his older brother while he was held in contempt. Of course his parents were proud of his intellect but his lack of social skills and habit of locking himself in his room to work on experiments made even his mother think of him as odd. Of course, his mother put up a better front than his father. His mother would ignore him most of the time unless they had company over in which case she would fuss over him and put up a very convincing act of something similar to affection for him. James Holmes, Sherlock's father on the other hand had taken to locking him in his room without food or water and pretending that he did not exist when he had important people over. He had quite a temper and usually took it out on Sherlock. At first, nothing physical but plenty of mental and emotional abuse which led to Sherlock becoming more and more isolated. Due to his circumstance, Sherlock was never a very happy child. He came home with bruises inflicted by his fellow classmates constantly, never knew what it was to have someone care or be proud of him and was hardly acknowledged in his own home. He slept there and ate occasionally but no one really noticed whether he had come home or not or whether he had eaten at all in the past several days. In fact, one day he didn't come home at all after school, instead he went out to the forest with a blanket and an apple and spent the night under the stars. The next day, his mother merely remarked that he "had been very quiet the previous night". Sherlock became more and more dependent on his experiments; they were the only things that really rewarded him. Soon enough Mycroft, who had been somewhat of a friend at some point but had gotten more distant as the years wore on and he became more successful and adored by their parents, left for Uni and Sherlock was left without a real peer in the world. No one else who was anywhere close to being somewhat like him. At first he wasn't really upset, he had always told himself that he resented Mycroft for being the "favorite" but in reality Mycroft had been the closest person to Sherlock and by the time Sherlock was 11 and entering grade 7, he was completely alone. This was about the time the beatings started and Sherlock's contempt for "feelings" developed. When Mycroft left, Alison Holmes became very involved in some society or other, not having her elder son around to fuss over and show off. Therefore James Holmes was left at home with his son more often. James had retired at a young age but still was involved in politics from the comfort of his home. However, like most of the Holmes' his mind needed to be stimulated and the lack of work led him to drink. At first just a bit but soon enough far too much and although Sherlock noticed, he didn't say anything to his mother who was far to busy with her own work to realize. At first it wasn't so bad, his father was careful that none of the marks would show and the beatings didn't occur very often. However combined with the regular "ruff-ups" he received at school, Sherlock was almost constantly a mess of bruises. Soon, the beatings at home became more frequent and brutal. Sherlock was careful that no one would notice. He never told anyone, sure that no one care. His father took to forcing him to eat and then hitting him repeatedly in the gut until he threw up or refusing him food or drink for days on end until he was so weak that he couldn't even protest against his father's violent blows (this was the reason why Sherlock never eats unless HE wants to, he won't take others suggestions for his eating patterns) The only person Sherlock considered telling once, was Mycroft, who came home every so often for holidays. However, Sherlock had convinced himself that My had probably deduced it for himself and just didn't care enough to do anything.

After 2 years of beatings both at school and at home, Sherlock had finally had enough. He was going to turn to drugs, but decided that that would not really solve the problem. Instead, he went into his parent's room and opened his father's bottom drawer to reveal a gun. He lifted the safety off, pointed the butt at himself and closed his eyes. He started to move the gun methodically towards his open mouth when his mother burst in, home early from her Tuesday evening. The noise startled Sherlock and her pulled the trigger, only his hand wavered at the same time, putting his aim off.

'Sherlock Holmes! What do you think that you were doing?" His mother shouted, gasping at the realization at what was happening, she ran to her son, who had shot himself through the side and cradled him in her arms.

"Oh, god…" she started but gagged at the sight of her son, pale and bloody. Alison reached for the phone in her bedside table, as if in slow motion and dialed 911.

Later when Sherlock awoke in the hospital he remembered slowly what had happened. He groaned thinking about all the awkward questions. He knew that the doctors would have noticed the bruises when they took him in for surgery. Sure enough as he opened his eyes, a nurse walked in with a very serious look on her face. Sherlock decided to play the "scared child" act to buy him some time.

"Where's my mom?" he asked as timidly as his pride would allow him, the fact that she wasn't by his bedside confirming in his mind his view of nobody caring about him at all.

"She, your father and your brother are all waiting in the hall." The nurse stated. Or should he say the counselor, Sherlock was getting slow. He should have realized that someone would come and talk to him about his attempted suicide.

"I can get them if you want, but you and I both know that that is not what you want and that you would rather get this talk over now." The man stated plainly.

"Fine." Sherlock said angrily. "What do you want me to say? I promise that I won't kill myself?"

"Sherlock," the counselor interrupted. "I don't want to know about that now, I want to know why you didn't tell anyone that you were being beaten."

Sherlock choked, he hated thinking about how weak he was, how he hadn't been able to defend himself and how small and in need of love he felt at that moment.

"No one would have cared." He stated weakly, his voice quivering.

"Tell me everything." The man said kindly, and although Sherlock did no such thing, he did open up just a little bit.

After that incident, things got better at home but worse at school. He and his mother moved out but his mother still hardly paid him any attention. She was mostly angry that she had been forced to separate from James, which she felt ruined her reputation. Sherlock had to talk to a counselor every week but after that one time in the hospital he felt guilty for ruining his parents' marriage and never told anything to a counselor again. He eventually got out of these meetings by black mailing the counselor with knowledge of his affair. Sherlock wouldn't tell his wife, and the counselor would say that Sherlock was doing well and attending their meetings every week. At this point, Sherlock was in grade 8, but taking grade 11 course and all the boys at high school were becoming bigger, stronger and more violent. Most days after school he walked home and it usually took him 30 minutes longer than it should have due to the fact that the other boys would drag him down an alley and beat the crap out of him for a while. Sherlock was once again extremely depressed, but was watched closely to prevent him from attempting to commit suicide again. This time, drugs were the only way out. He acquired some heroin from a sleazy grade 10 student and before long was addicted. It was the only part of his day where he could escape from all the hurt and neglect in his life. Soon enough, his dealer turned on him and would force him to beg for his drugs which Sherlock had no choice but to comply with. Every Friday, Samuel as Sherlock learned his name was, would meet Sherlock after school. Sherlock would ask nicely, and give Samuel the money. Then Samuel would refuse until Sherlock was so desperate that he would beg. Samuel would hit him until he no longer had any strength and was suffering from severe withdrawal. In the end, Samuel would hand over the heroin and Sherlock would continue destroying himself with his addiction.

On the other hand, John Watson, a grade 12 student, was very popular. He was on the school rugby team and he got good enough marks in school. However, he was very handsome and practically all of the girls and some of the boys would marry him in an instant if he asked. He hadn't always been a "cool kid" but he had switched schools the previous year due to his adopted father's military career and somehow had ended up as popular. He knew how to have a good time but never went overboard, he was very practical and his friends seemed to enjoy a more mature steadying influence. He was also a fantastic athlete. He had an older sister, his parents' biological daughter, Harriet, but she no longer lived at home. His adopted parents were happily married, not poor but not rich either. Though he was popular with the girls, John had discovered from an early age that he was bi and at his new school, instead of being teased for it, he had become a bit of a hero for all the queer kids and soon, being queer was actually considered cool.

However, John's life had not always been so easy. His real parents had been missionaries in Afghanistan but had been rather brutally hung for their religion when John was only 4. His adoptive father was a colonel and had found John hiding in a closet after his parents had been dragged from the house. Although, the colonel had seen many traumatized children, John stole his heart and he vowed to take care of the little boy. However, soon after John was discovered, the authorities were returning from the hanging (a public event) and finding that enemy soldiers were in the town, conducted a raid. The colonel had grabbed the little boy when the shooting had started and ran with the boy on his back to safety.

When the colonel brought John back with him a couple weeks later, John was a timid scared little boy, but the colonel and his family accepted John into their loving home and soon he was thriving.

One day John was walking home from school and he heard shouting and muffled thuds coming from an alleyway. Curious, he stole down the alleyway, instinct telling him not to announce himself. He gagged at what he saw. Three boys were holding a much younger, smaller boy down while two others took turns hitting the poor victim. John winced at the sounds that emitted from the poor boy's mouth. He realized that he was frozen in place and forcing himself to drag his gaze form the horror in front of him, he jumped into action.

"What do you think that you are doing?" John leaped from his hiding spot, addressing the attackers. Surprised, they whirled around.

"Oh, John!" One said relieved. "Just having some fun, want to join in?" John felt sick that these boys thought he enjoyed beating others up.

"No!" John said sizing the attackers up, not wanting to become a victim himself. "You guys are sick." Luckily all the boys were a grade below John and seemed to think of him as some sort of God. They ran. John scurried over to the target and realized that the boy was in his physics class. He had heard people talking about how brilliant he was and personally John had developed a bit of a crush on the boy but had never known the boy was picked on.

'Are you ok." John asked worriedly.

"Yes fine!" Sherlock said, trying to muster up some dignity. He tried to stand but his knees collapsed. John caught him and propped him up against a wall.

"No you aren't." John said. "Come with me, my house is close I can help you get cleaned up." Sherlock was surprised at the other boy's act of kindness in standing up for him but had learned not to trust anyone.

'I am perfectly fine." Sherlock said disgruntled and this time he was able to take a few hobbling steps on his own. He started what he knew would be a very long and painful walk home. He turned and saw the older boy staring at him apprehensively and Sherlock added as an afterthought. "Thank-you." The word tasted strange in his mouth. John tried unsuccessfully to help once again but Sherlock refused again. He watched to make sure that Sherlock was walking somewhat steadily and then continued on his own way home, feeling slightly anxious at what kind of person others thought of him, the words "would you like to join in. ' echoing in his head.

John watched Sherlock closely in class for the next week. He noticed that the younger boy sat by himself and looked completely bored at what the teacher was saying. Sure, that was true enough for most of the kids in the class, but Sherlock actually looked like he understood exactly what was happening. John still wanted to befriend the younger boy and decided to ask for help with his homework as an excuse to talk to him again. Sherlock left class hastily and John was practically jogging to try and catch up with him. Sherlock left the school immediately, trying to get ahead of his bullies and John followed. However, before he could catch Sherlock, a different group of 6 or 7 boys than the last time jumped out of the nearby forest, seizing Sherlock. John gulped, these boys were in his grade and he wasn't sure that he would be able to scare them off. He thought about turning a blind eye and quickly started walking away. However when he had nearly reached his house, his conscience wouldn't let him go any further so he ran back to where he had seen the group and the unfortunate younger boy going and found them in yet another alley. The scene took place much the same as the last. The boys didn't take as well to John ordering them down and although a few ran off, he had to throw a few punches at the other boys before they would leave. Once they had left, John once again approached Sherlock, who was cowering in a corner, blood dripping from a hit on his forehead.

"I am not letting you run off this time." John said. "You are coming home with me. Up you get." John helped Sherlock to his feet and Sherlock's body went limp as John helped him walk the few block to his house. He knew that both his parents were out and that he could help the younger boy and asks him how best he could help him without awkward questions from third parties.

When they entered the house, Sherlock was almost unconscious. John grabbed his father's emergency military medical kit and as he wanted to become a doctor, was quite good at cleaning Sherlock up. He made some tea and handed to a bleary eyed Sherlock who was sitting on John's couch and wrapped in a blanket. Sherlock was so confused at this act of utter kindness that he had never experienced that he started to weep. He hated himself for his uncontrollable emotions, half expecting John to hit him for his weakness as his father would have, but John only squeezed his hand and waited for him to calm down. When he had, John asked quietly

"How long has this been going on?" Sherlock looked into the completely sincere eyes and for the first time in over 2 years he opened up a bit. He told John about the beatings at school, leaving out the heroin and his home life but it was a start. John looked very upset at this and Sherlock wondered if he had said something wrong.

"No, it's not you. I just hate those boys for what they did to you." John said reading Sherlock's worry in his face.

After that, Sherlock and John became fast friends. John's popularity and strength protected Sherlock from the brunt of the bullies and Sherlock awed John with his amazing deductions. Sherlock was careful not to tell John how much he could tell about his life just from a couple looks, having scared off more than a few potential acquaintances after they understood the extent of Sherlock's intelligence. Their friendship grew, but Sherlock never told John about his addiction. Instead, he told John that he had violin lessons Fridays (they were actually Saturdays) and never walked with John those days. He continued to meet with Samuel who treated him worse than ever, but still, he got the drug, which his body by now so desperately needed.

This continued for 2 more years until Sherlock was 17, in grade 12 and John was 19, in university, studying to get into med school. John went to a nearby university and although he was no longer at the same school as Sherlock, he was nearby so they saw a lot of each other and the other kids had for the most part backed off; except Samuel of course, but John still didn't know about him. It was a Friday afternoon and Sherlock's weekly meeting with the dealer was going on while John was preparing to surprise Sherlock for his birthday. John got to Sherlock's house and planned to surprise him when he got home from school, by this time he knew a bit about Sherlock's slightly dysfunctional family and knew that Sherlock would not be expecting any kind of celebration for his 18th birthday. John still knew nothing of the extent of abuse from his father or attempted suicide Sherlock had gone through. When John heard Sherlock come through the door, he could hear wheezing and a cough. Worried, John wondered if it had been a gang again but as he rounded the corner to check if his friend was ok he let out a horrified gasp.

Sherlock was bleeding and stumbling about, a small package clutched in his left hand. John stared at the package.

"Sherlock, what is that?" John asked not wanting to know the answer.

"John, oh dear." Sherlock said stumbling a bit as he climbed the stairs, pinching his nose to stop it from bleeding. "I don't suppose that there is any use in lying to you now." He continued looking upset.

"Oh god Sherlock, I should have known." John mumbled, looking increasingly horrified and wanting to yell at his friend. "I can't believe this. You of all people." Sherlock looked very upset and hung his head. It was then that John realized that like many times throughout their friendship, Sherlock was about to faint and he reached out to catch him as he had so many times in the past and led him to a couch lying him down and fetching some bandages and a wet cloth from the cupboard. John began expertly cleaning Sherlock's wounds, his heart twisting at the bruises he saw forming on Sherlock's arms and chest. When he was done, he finally turned his attention to the menacing little bag filled with evil looking powder.

'Why didn't you tell me Sherlock? I could've helped you know." John rasped. Sherlock looked at him with anguish in his eyes,

"I have never had a friend before." He whispered weakly. "I didn't want to disappoint you. I was so sure that you would hate me. I needed the drugs before I met you and after I met you, well, it was too late."

"Oh, Sherlock, I could never hate you." John said filled with disappointment in himself. He was angry that he hadn't seen the signs, angry that he hadn't let Sherlock know that he would do anything for him, angry with himself for letting his friend hurt himself for who knows how long and not noticing. "I will always be with you, through thick and thin and nothing can get in the way. You are a great young man Sherlock and you shouldn't be ashamed of needing a little help."

After John's discovery of Sherlock's addiction, John let Sherlock's mother know and soon Sherlock was moved to rehabilitation. He had already graduated from high school technically and had been planning on going to Uni after grade 10. Sherlock was in for a hard couple of months but John visited almost every day and it was only that that made it bearable. John would sneak in lab equipment, bring the sections of newspaper that had interesting and unsolved crimes (by this time, Sherlock was already fascinated with the puzzles of mysteries and murderers) and although Sherlock hardly ate, John would often bring some chocolate or a treat for them to share. Three months of struggle later, Sherlock was clean. The day of his discharge, John came over as soon as his last class was done, having promised Mrs. Holmes (who claimed that she was too busy to see her son home) to help Sherlock settle back in at home. When he arrived, he walked the familiar hallway, entering Sherlock's room.

'Ready to go?" John asked smiling at Sherlock who was busy cleaning his test tube fondly before packing it into one of the 2 almost full bags.

"Almost, just a few last things." Sherlock replied. When he had placed a few more items in the bag, John grabbed one bag and Sherlock grabbed the other. Sherlock's eyes swept around the well memorized room one last time before following John out and to his car.

When they arrived at Sherlock's home, John helped him unpack. Once they had finished, John made a cup of tea and they sat in the living room.

"Well, Sherlock, congratulations." John said proudly.

"Thanks." Sherlock said awkwardly. "I couldn't have done it without you." John's eyes clouded.

"I am so sorry, Sherlock, I was so clueless." John said.

"It wasn't your fault. I was sure that you would have just been ashamed of me." Sherlock said blushing.

"Well, that is never going to happen." John said fiercely.

"Yes, I know that now, and I was wondering if I could tell you something that I have never fully disclosed to anyone." Sherlock asked quietly. John nodded, tilting his head listening intently. Sherlock finally told someone his whole life. He told John of being ignored by his family, the beatings he received from his father, his attempted suicide, his guilt about his parents' marriage, his encounters with Samuel, everything. John sat quietly, looking upset and moving closer to squeeze Sherlock's hand when Sherlock chocked or teared up. When He had finished they both sat there silently. Finally John broke the silence.

"God Sherlock, I am so sorry." John said, his voice quivering, anger bubbling up at everyone who had ever made Sherlock feel small or unimportant. "Nothing that happened to you was your fault. I wish I could fix it, but I can't and I hope that in the future you will talk to me about things." Sherlock looked solemn but nodded his head and John knew that he could trust Sherlock to tell him about anything that hurt him. They fell silent for a moment but somehow the pause didn't become awkward. Sherlock eyes flicked over John. He thought about the mysterious young man who had showed him what it was like to want to live for something.

"How were you shot?" Sherlock asked quietly, having deduced that John too had had a hard life.

"Excuse me?" John asked uncomfortably.

"Left shoulder." Sherlock stated plainly. "I have known for a while but I can't figure out how. I know that you are adopted but you are British aren't you? I also know that you had a traumatizing child hood, your real parents were brutally murdered somehow. Did you grow up on the streets?"

"I should have known that you could tell." John said, smiling slightly at his friend's brilliance. "I grew up in Afghanistan. I was shot when my adoptive father carried me out of my home. My parents were hung for practicing Christianity. Frank (John's adopted father) found me in my house just as enemy troops came back to raid our town. He brought me back to England and adopted me." John became quiet. "I have never told anyone that before, other than my family obviously."

The two friends studied each other for a couple minutes. Both had known unimaginable pain in their life and both had never known the extent of which the other had suffered until now.

"I am so sorry John." Sherlock said in a whisper and for the first time since he had been a child, he felt for someone else. Suddenly John became agitated.

'Sherlock, I was so worried that I was going to lose you. I felt that we had just met and when I realized that day what you had been doing to yourself for all those years, I was so worried." John moved a little closer to Sherlock. "You are an amazing friend and I want to protect you, I don't want to ever see you as broken as I did that day again. Sherlock, what I want to say is that… well, I love you." John eyes opened wide, realizing what he had just confessed. Sherlock looked into his eyes for a moment before drawing closer and pressing his lips to John's. John eyes opened wide for a second at the shock. He had never let himself hope that Sherlock could ever love him back and yet what was happening? He closed his eyes, praying it wasn't a dream. Their lips melted together and John pulled Sherlock into a warm embrace. The kiss was soft, promising. When they broke apart, they stared into each other's eyes for a moment, each wanting to take away all the hurt and horrors the other had seen before their lips met again. They sat there for a long while holding each other, comforting each other. Each of the boys had finally met someone they could trust completely and that moment, two souls became one.

Five years later, Sherlock and John were still dating. Sherlock had breezed through Uni but quickly discovered that there was no way that he would work for anyone other than himself. Having always been drawn to detective work, he started working as a consulting detective. John was still in school but was the top of his class and on his way to becoming an excellent doctor. They lived together in a flat on Baker Street. John and Sherlock's relationship had it's problems as did all other relationships and John knew that Sherlock didn't always believe that John truly loved him. John felt so disappointed in himself sometimes, feeling that he hadn't proved his love to Sherlock. So, although they were still young, John knew that they were perfect for each other and he decided that it was time he put Sherlock's worries to rest.

Sherlock came back to their flat, marching in and slamming the door triumphantly.

"It was the gardener John, the gardener! How did I miss it the first time? It was brilliant, absolutely brilliant! He could've made an amazing detective, too bad he wasted his talents on crime." Sherlock ranted, grinning as he told John all about his most recent case. John smiled listening to his boyfriend describe how he had uncoded a seemingly impossible murder.

"Well, you must have worked up an appetite. I have dinner on the table and you are going to eat. No excuses, you aren't working anymore." John said, smiling as Sherlock leaned in to steal a kiss.

"Alright my darling, for you I'd eat dirt." Sherlock beamed, glowing from his adrenaline rush and sitting down at their kitchen table. The table had been set with a red tablecloth and there was a candle set in the middle. John had cooked pasta and Sherlock rambled on about his case throughout the meal. When they had finished, Sherlock realized that John's gesture of making him a nice dinner and listening to him for the past hour was probably considered very kind and that he ought to do something nice for John in return. Sherlock rose, moving to clear the dishes from the table.

'Don't worry about it Sherlock. There is something that I want to ask you." John said nervously. "I was wondering, well, if you want, I mean…"

"What is it John, come on do get it out."

"Right, sorry." John said nervously, moving to kneel in front of Sherlock and removing a small box from his pocket. "Right, well, here it goes, Sherlock, will you marry me?" Sherlock didn't move for a moment and then his eyes clouded with confusion.

"John, I do not appreciate you joking around with me like this. I do not understand why you are being so cruel." Sherlock's voice was laced with anger. John stared at him confused, still on one knee.

"Sherlock! Whatever do you mean? Why will you not just say yes?" John voice was hurt.

"Honestly John, if you want to break this off just say so!" Sherlock shouted.

"What are you talking about?" John asked, confused.

"You cannot possibly want to spend the rest of your life with… well, with me!" Sherlock said, gesturing to himself with a faint trace of disgust.

"Sherlock, don't say that. Of course I do you idiot."

"No you don't and do not kid yourself into thinking that. If we were to get married, you would simply become bothered with me and my selfish ways and then we would have to get a divorce and I refuse to live with that guilt and regret." Sherlock said firmly. John was at a loss for words.

"Sherlock, I love you completely and entirely. If I were going to leave you, I would have done it long ago. I am here to stay. I know that you have trouble with relationships, so many people have hurt you in the past, it is hard for you to accept me but I never want you to be hurt again. Sherlock when I befriended you in high school, it broke my heart what the other kids did to you every day. I hated that I couldn't protect you from everything. I still can't, but I can hold you when you have nightmares and I can stitch you up when you are hurt. God Sherlock, I don't know if I would have made it through these past few years without your shoulder to cry on when I needed it. You think that you are helping me by refusing to marry me that it will save me pain later, but you are wrong. I can't go on without you. You are my everything. I need you Sherlock. I need to be able to protect you and I need you to know that I can never stop loving you, that this isn't something I am doing to be nice. I love you Sherlock Holmes, please tell me that you love me." John was so upset that Sherlock would doubt him, but he knew that it wasn't either of their faults. It was his damn father, the other damn kids that fucking Samuel kids' fault. All the people that had ever hurt Sherlock had made him believe that no one could love such a broken man, but John could. Sherlock was silent, tears in his eyes.

"I love you John Watson and I want to be yours forever. Yes I will marry you." Sherlock's voice was quiet, his breath catching in his throat. John saw the pain that Sherlock was feeling. Sherlock finally realized that someone did care, someone did love him, was proud of him and the emotions were too much. He let out a sob and dropped his head but john caught it and lifted it up, looking him in the eyes.

"I promise you that no one will ever hurt you again if I can help it." John's voice was fiercely loyal. He could feel anger bubbling up in him thinking about the people that had made Sherlock, his Sherlock hurt so much but he let go of those feelings and instead focused on the love he felt for the man in front of him. He opened the box and slid the ring onto Sherlock's finger. The two men stood and pulled each other into an embrace, John's lips reaching for Sherlock's. When they met, the rest of the world slipped away, the universe was suddenly right. Nothing else existed for either man except for the pure love for each other. Sherlock reluctantly broke the kiss and whispered to John.

"I love you John Watson, I love you so much."

**Hello again! I hope that you like it, tell me what you liked/didn't and please leave reviews/favourtie it! Also I will be putting up a suits fanfic soon so if you like suits, doctor who or Sherlock, please follow me.**


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